Alagos should have shot the Orc. Normally, he would have. But again, something inexplicably made him hesitate. He was not known for hesitation; indeed, his name, meaning "storm of wind", was given him for his restless impetuosity, evident from the day of his birth. As it was, today he crouched frozen in the trees, fingers gripping his arrow but not drawing it. He stared at the small Orc, and the Orc stared at him. They gazed at one another for several long moments, the Elf with wariness, the Orc with fear, and both with not a little wonder.

The Orc took a deep breath. Alagos's drawing arm tensed, but the Orc merely spoke. "Er…h-hello," it said nervously, in the Common Speech. Its voice was raspy, even gravelly, but soft and high-pitched. Alagos stared at it. "Hello," he answered blankly, unsure of what to do.

"I-I'm sorry I, um, trespassed on your—your forest…I'll go now, you don't have to shoot me…" the Orc spoke somewhat haltingly and trailed off, picking anxiously at its long, claw-like nails. It continued to stare at Alagos, clearly terrified, but also clearly fascinated with him.

The Elf considered this. He was inclined to let the strange little Orc go, but he knew that was taking a foolish risk. On the other hand, it had actually apologized for trespassing. And there was also its seeming love of nature to consider. Torn, he decided to not decide right away; instead, he wanted to ask this odd Orc some questions. He tried to decide what to ask first, and to form it in the right way.

"What is wrong with you?" is what he eventually came out with, and cringed at his lack of eloquence. "I mean, why are you different from other Orcs?" Alagos hastily clarified. "You are not destructive like the rest of your kind, and you seem to enjoy being in nature, rather than killing it. How can this be?"

"Oh. Well, I don't believe I'm an Orc. I believe I'm an Elf."

Alagos blinked, dumbfounded by this ridiculous statement. After a few seconds of shocked silence, he began to laugh, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "Oh, you are an Orc," he gasped out through his laughter; "well, I suppose it is possible you are not an Orc, but you are most certainly not an Elf, little creature!"

The delusional Orc looked wounded. "Excuse me, all Orcs are technically Elves! Morg—the Dark One took Elves and twisted them for his dark purposes, way back in the beginning, and made Orcs, right? Well, I'm trying to—to—um, restore—no, regain—"

"Your former glory?" Alagos supplied with a smirk. The Orc below him nodded. "Yes! No. Not glory, really, I'm sure, but…goodness. Not-Orc-ness. Better-ness. I'm trying to escape the horribleness of being an Orc. I want to be good. I want to be an Elf!"

The little Orc spoke with such conviction, such earnestness, that Alagos found he believed it. He was touched, but still amused. He asked the Orc-turned-Elf, "And how do you propose to become an Elf, little Orc? Eat vegetables and stay in the sun, hoping she will bleach you white? Live in the trees and shoot a bow?"

The Orc was looking dismayed. "I haven't figured that part out yet," it admitted. "But I'm going to try everything I can think of, starting with not acting like an Orc!"

Alagos swung down from his perch in the tree, landing in front of the Orc, who yelped in fright, tumbled backward in shock and fell into the stream. It scrambled to its feet, shaking the water off its head, and glared at Alagos. "A little warning, maybe?!" it growled indignantly. Though Alagos believed the Orc was no threat, its glare and growl still made him want to step back. Instead he laughed lightly. "Where would we Elves be if we gave warning? Our specialty is surprise," he said easily. "Do not worry, it is just a bit of water. Although," the Elf added as an afterthought, "I will have to kill you now, as you have soiled the waters of the Nimrodel with your Orc-filth."

The little Orc gasped in fright and stumbled away from Alagos; then it halted and narrowed its eyes at him. He was laughing again. The Orc pointed at him. "I touched the water lots of times before, and you didn't kill me then, even though you were watching. Very funny, scaring me like that. Besides, I'm not all that dirty. I do try to keep myself mostly clean, as any girl Elf would do."

Alagos choked on his laughter. "You are a female?!" He was stunned. The possibility of this Orc being a female had never occurred to him. Now he wondered how many of the Orcs he had killed had been female, in addition to wondering how many had been younglings. Way to make him feel somewhat guilty about his victories!

The Orc was eyeing him strangely. "Well, yeah," it—she—said, as if this should have been obvious from the beginning. "Why? Is something wrong with that?"

Alagos shook his head. "No, it simply…took me by surprise."

The female Orc seemed uncertain what to make of his confusion. "Oh," she said simply. Recovering her wits, she asked the Elf, "So, what's your name? I'm Ski. It means eight, because I was the eighth baby my mother had. She didn't like me. Anyway, your name?"

"Alagos," he answered, taken aback by this new show of friendliness—from an Orc, no less. Ski smiled her snarly smile and nodded. "That's a nice name," she announced. "What does it mean?"

Still confused, Alagos answered, "Storm of wind. My parents gave me that name because I was impulsive."

"Really?" asked Ski, surprised. "You seem pretty patient to me. After all, you watched me instead of shooting me on sight! Er—thanks for that, by the way, and for actually listening to me. And believing me. At least, I think you believed me. So, um, thank you."

"Observing you instead of killing you was the impulsive behavior. You are welcome," Alagos said, somewhat uneasily. He still wasn't sure that he had done the right thing by letting an intruder—an Orc—live, and then fraternizing with it; was he simply being gullible?

Ski must have seen Alagos's uneasiness and renewed suspicion in his eyes, because hers widened in dismay. "You…you do believe me, right?" she asked nervously. "I'm being honest, I swear! I know that's rare—maybe even unheard of—for an Orc, but then, I'm trying to not be an Orc, remember?" The youngster had edged back from Alagos slightly as she said this, desperation once again showing on her misshapen face. "I'm not like the others!"

The Elf gazed at the young Orc's anguished face, eyes narrowed, for a long moment. As any Elf—or Man or Dwarf, for that matter—would be, his logical mind screamed its distrust of the Orc, and warned him against her words. But Alagos saw her defiant earnestness, saw the truth in her eyes, and knew that Ski was honest in all she said.

Alagos locked gazes with Ski and inclined his head. "I believe you," he said in a low, strong voice. "I see truth in you, and goodness, young Ski. Never have I expected to find these qualities in one of your race. Forgive me for doubting you, but you must understand why I did."

Ski, clearly relieved, and standing taller at his praise, nodded. "Yes, I understand. If I were you, I wouldn't have trusted me either. Thank you…for saying I was good."

The Elf dipped his head in response to her thanks. He glanced up at the sky, now tinged with pink from the approaching sunset. "The hour grows late, and the Sun prepares for her nightly rest. I must return home now, lest the other guards come searching for me. I will tell none of our meeting; but you are welcome here, in this clearing, at any time. The border guard rarely ventures this far; when it does, I will volunteer to patrol myself. Haldir perceives little risk from this area." Ski gave him a deeply grateful look, at a loss for words. Alagos gave her a small smile, understanding.

"Now I must take my leave, mellon-nín; but I hope we meet again." Alagos turned and sprang up into the trees, light as a shadow, as Ski raised her hand in farewell. "Alagos," she called, and he turned, scarcely visible in the gathering gloom. "Was that Elvish? Mellon-nín—what does it mean?"

"'My friend.'"

Alagos leapt away through the treetops, but not before seeing Ski's face. This time, there was not even a semblance of a snarl; the smile was pure, blissful joy.

A/N: I got Ski's name from the LOTR wiki, which had a (disappointingly short) list of Black Speech words. It may or may not be reliable. I think Ski can be pronounced either "skee" or "sky", but it's probably pronounced "skih", with a short i. Tolkien based Black Speech off of Persian, Akkadian, and/or some Eastern European languages, I believe; I'm not sure of the pronunciation rules for those languages, but Ski with a short i seems like the sharpest, harshest and most guttural of the possible pronunciations, so that's what I'm going with in my head. Anyway. Just for those of you obsessed with proper pronunciation in your head (anyone? no one? oh well, just me, then).